


Bonding Rituals

by blackkat



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, M/M, Pranks and Practical Jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23394208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: Cody smirks, tilting his head. “Sounds like Fox has a date,” he says, and Rex is suddenly, vividly reminded of the fact that Cody and Fox are batchmates. Somethingmusthave gone wrong with the cloning process there, because that much asshole in one batch should be physically improbable. For a moment, he almost feels sorry for Fox.Then he remembers that Fox yelled at Fives last time they ran into each other during an escort mission on the front, and decides that he actually doesn’t.
Relationships: CC-1010 | Fox/Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-2224 | Cody & CT-7567 | Rex, CT-7567 | Rex/Kit Fisto
Comments: 69
Kudos: 1372
Collections: Clones Adore Obiwan, Fun/Humour/Crack in a Galaxy Far Far Away, Jedi Journals, Star Wars Alternate Universes





	Bonding Rituals

Rex wanders along the corridor in the barracks with his nose buried in a datapad, a cup of caf in one hand, and a ration bar hanging out of his mouth. There's nothing urgent to do, nothing to be filed, no generals to ride herd on. Echo’s seeing to the men, with Kix to keep an eye on Echo, and Rex nominally has a day to himself, on Coruscant, far away from any fronts. It’s a blissful concept.

He’s just debating between finding Gree and catching up or doing some aimless walking in Coruscant’s upper levels, with the potential to find a nice restaurant and get himself a fancy meal, when hands reach out of the darkness and haul him sideways into a maintenance closet.

Rex yelps, entirely caught off guard. Half of his ration bar hits the ground, while the other half lodges itself in his throat, and his caf sloshes dangerously close to the pad, then promptly upends over his arm. His captor doesn’t even pause; he drags Rex into the room and seals the door. Then, ominous, there’s a click, and the lone light in the ceiling flickers to life.

Rex hacks up some pieces of ration, looks from his caf-soaked sleeve to the brother in front of him, and scowls.

“Cody, what the _hell_?”

“Keep your voice down,” Cody tells him, unimpressed, and turns the light off again. The whole room is plunged into absolute blackness, but Rex can hear Cody shift, crouching by the door. A hand smacks Rex's leg impatiently, and Rex, knowing just how much of a bastard Cody can be, groans and goes with it, hunkering down next to Cody by the door. A hand shoves his head closer, and Rex swats at Cody in annoyance but leans in until his ear is practically pressed to the door, and—

Footsteps. Booted, but lighter than a clone, and approaching quickly from the direction of the main landing platform. From the other direction, there are the substantial paces of an armored brother, and Rex catches the shift of heavy _kama_ as well.

And then, bright, a very familiar voice calls, “Commander Fox! What a surprise to see you all the way out here. What brings you so close to the Temple?”

Incredulous, Rex turns his head to give Cody a speaking look, even through the darkness. He’s hiding from Fox? From his _own general_?

Cody ignores him. Of course he does.

“General Kenobi.” Fox always sounds like he’s about two minor problems away from an ulcer, and that definitely hasn’t changed, but—maybe there’s something less harsh in his voice than usual. Rex gets that. He’d much rather deal with a Jedi than a Senator any day of the week. “Commander Gree had a report on a terrorist cell with designs on blowing up the Senate Building. I just came to collect the files personally.”

“Well, it’s nice to see you away from the Senate for once,” Obi-Wan says kindly. “That much politicking is enough to give anyone hives. I'm impressed that you’ve held out this long, Commander.”

There's a pause, and then Fox coughs. Rex blinks, pulling back slightly, and—that almost sounded like _laughter_.

But every shiny knows that Fox’s sense of humor got left in his cloning vat when he was decanted. This is just _weird_.

“Thire only tries to throw himself off the balcony on odd days, sir,” he says. “We’re doing fine.”

Obi-Wan chuckles, and his steps come to a halt right outside the maintenance closet. “That won't do at all,” he says, though he sounds more amused than dismayed. “A little relaxation never hurt anyone, Commander. I know for a fact that Thire also takes at least one day a week off. What about you?”

“I get by, sir. The Supreme Chancellor likes to be able to call on a commander on short notice, so we try to accommodate him.”

“Even Sheev Palpatine takes days off,” Obi-Wan says, and that tone is light, amused, _charming_. Rex pauses, trying to fit Obi-Wan’s _my version of diplomacy is flirting everyone into submission_ voice into the context of a conversation with _Fox_ , and finds that his eyes kind of want to cross from the effort involved. “When precisely is his next one, Commander?”

There's a long pause, and then Fox clears his throat. “He’s taking an early night tonight,” he offers. “Otherwise, I’ll have to check his schedule, sir.”

“Well, I suppose tonight will do, then,” Obi-Wan says grandly, “seeing as our leave might be cut short at any moment. Commander, if I could request your time this evening?”

Fox coughs. “I—of course, sir. How many Guards should I alert?”

“As many as you like, I suppose.” Obi-Wan sounds bemused. “If you enjoy that sort of thing. But I was hoping for your _personal_ time, Commander.”

“Oh.” That tone means Fox is caught off-guard, but he’s _definitely_ not as startled as Rex, who gives Cody another bewildered look. Cody's hand locks around his knee, tight enough to make Rex raise an eyebrow, but he doesn’t so much as twitch otherwise, and beyond the door, Fox distracts Rex thoroughly by saying, “If—if you want, sir. Should I find you in the Temple when I'm done here?”

“No need, I’ll pick you up from the Guard barracks tonight. Say, at seven?” There's a thump of plastoid, like Obi-Wan just clapped Fox on the shoulder. “I'm looking forward to it, Fox.”

“Thanks, sir,” Fox says, a little strangled. From far too much experience, Rex can just _see_ the way Obi-Wan is smiling, how he’s leaning in just a little closer than he needs to, and has to strangle a groan. The general is an unrepentant _flirt_. “Me too.”

With a cheery farewell, Obi-Wan keeps walking, and his steps round the corner and fade away completely before Rex hears so much as the faintest shift from Fox. Then, deliberate, there's a low groan, full of despair, and a hard thud close enough to make Rex startle, like Fox just slammed his bucket against the room’s door.

“ _Sithspit_ ,” Fox hisses, all dismay, and steps away. His boots retreat at double-time, headed for the section of the barracks where Green Company is quartered, and in a moment there’s complete silence in the hallway again.

Slowly, deliberately, Cody rises to his feet, and the light clicks on.

Rex _knows_ that look. It’s the _butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth, all my plans work, I_ totally _didn’t try to punch Grievous in the face that one time_ kind of expression that used to fool Alpha-17 into thinking Cody was a good little cadet and not an unholy _terror_.

“Vod,” he warns, and rises as well, folding his arms across his chest. “No.”

“You don’t even know what I'm going to do,” Cody says mildly.

Rex levels a finger at him, incredulous. “Of course I do! Last time you had that look, you filled Wolffe’s boots with dog treats and framed Doom.”

“Bantha shit,” Cody says, offended. That tone is a _lie_. “If I _had_ done that, I would have framed Monnk. And besides. Whatever I was potentially going to do, Fox deserves it.”

Rex pauses, not entirely willing to deny that. Fox is a right bastard. “And what, exactly, were you thinking of doing?” he asks warily. “Hypothetically.”

Cody smirks, tilting his head. “Sounds like _Fox’ika_ has a date,” he says, and Rex is suddenly, vividly reminded of the fact that Cody and Fox are batchmates. Something _must_ have gone wrong with the cloning process there, because that much asshole in one batch should be physically improbable. For a moment, he almost feels sorry for Fox.

Then he remembers that Fox yelled at Fives last time they ran into each other during an escort mission on the front, and decides that he actually doesn’t.

“Well,” he says, torn between resignation and amusement. “At least you're not picking on Wolffe this time.”

“I never pick on anyone,” Cody says, indignant.

Rex stares at him for a long, long moment. Takes a breath. Reaches out and claps him on the shoulder, looking him right in the eyes.

“Cody,” he says. “You're my favorite brother. But you’ve been picking on me since the moment we met in training, and I _know_ I annoy you less than the vast majority of people.”

Cody pulls a face at him. “I respect you,” he says, like that’s a protest, but Rex already knows that without a doubt. Pauses, like he’s weighing Rex's words, and asks, like a challenge, “So you're not coming to the Guard barracks with me?”

Rex smirks. “Like you could leave me out of this if you _tried_ ,” he retorts, and Cody laughs. He hooks a hand around the back of Rex's neck and pulls him forward, and Rex takes the mutual headbutt with all the love with which it’s intended.

It still makes his head ring like a bell. Cody's got a thick skull.

Fox is a workaholic even by the standards of a clone, so it’s not hard to find a moment when he’s out of his room and dealing with something halfway across the district. A couple of Guard shock troopers eye Rex and Cody warily as they make their way down the halls, but for all that the Guard is mostly independent of the GAR as a whole, Cody's still a marshal commander, and Rex is in some weird fluid state where he’s _technically_ a captain but in actually commands a whole legion, which gives him as much authority as a senior commander, because Anakin likes to make his life difficult. No one is about to stop them, especially when Cody stops in front of Fox’s door like he has the full authority to be there, punches in the code, and lets them both in.

“Do I even want to know how you got that code?” Rex asks, amused, and sweeps a critical eye over the room. It’s small, almost painfully neat even by military standards. Fox apparently arranges his datapads by size and sorts his pens by _color_ , which offends Rex on a deeply personal level.

He reorders them at random immediately. Just because.

“Like it’s hard to guess,” Cody says, mildly scornful. “Fox has been using the same one for everything since we were decanted.” He drops his kit next to the bed, then crouches down to riffle through it, and Rex takes the chance to go through the drawers in Fox’s desk.

“So is this because Fox was flirting with your general?” he asks, mostly out of morbid curiosity. “Or is this payback for when he made Waxer cry that one time?” An edge of gold under a neat stack of training manuals makes him raise a brow, and he edges a bag of chocolates out of the bottom of the drawer, then smirks.

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Cody says dryly, pulling a set of armor out of the bulky bag. “He’s made Waxer cry a couple of times now. But mostly his face annoys me.”

Probably equal parts the Waxer thing and the general thing, Rex decides, watching the armor come out with both eyebrows inching towards his hairline. “I hate to break it to you, vod, but that’s _your_ face, too.”

“I wear it better,” Cody says, unbothered by the hypocrisy. “If he wants to share it, he’d better shape up.”

Rex doesn’t point out that Fox has saved Coruscant in general and the Senate in particular from being attacked multiple times now. That’s a pretty good shape to be in, regardless of jerkish tendencies. “Is that Gree's armor?” he asks instead, eyeing the green paint. “How’d you let him agree to lend it to you?”

“Of course it’s Gree's armor. General Kenobi always complains that the green makes it look moldy. He hates it.” Cody opens the footlocker and starts switching out the crimson Guard armor for the 41st’s green. “Fox was wearing his greys when he left, so it will work.”

Somehow, Rex expects that Fox’s greys aren’t going to fare all that much better. Pocketing the bag of chocolates, he pushes to his feet and crouches down next to Cody, tugging out Fox’s black thermals. They're a lighter grade, given Coruscant’s usual temperature, and he snorts softly, tossing them into Cody's bag. Their quick stop in one of the shopping areas on their way here netted them a nice skintight pink undersuit in the same size, and Rex folds it just as the blacks were and sets it right where they sat with care. “Nice not to have to haul around the heavy thermals,” he says, maybe a little dry, and then pulls out Fox’s spare greys. The service uniform doesn’t tend to get a lot of use with the guard, but Rex has seen him default to it when he’s on escort missions, so it’s better to cover all the bases.

Cody snorts. “I’d rather punch a battle droid than babysit a senator any day of the week,” he says. “Fox fell on the vibroblade for all of us there.”

That, Rex will admit, is entirely true. Every time Senator Amidala shows up, he spontaneously develops a new swathe of grey hairs, and she’s one of the _good_ ones.

It still doesn’t stop him from replacing the greys with the most ridiculous lacey tunic and skintight pants that they could find on short notice, though.

“After the war,” Cody says, with a thread of determination that Rex hasn’t heard from him outside of general-wrangling, “I'm going to drag Fox out, dump him on a tropical planet, and leave him there for a _month_.”

Rex snorts. “I thought _you_ were uptight, but Fox makes even you look relaxed,” he agrees, and Cody makes a sound of _deep_ offense, dropping the lid of the footlocker and grabbing. Rex ducks with a laugh, scrambling backwards, but Cody's better at hand-to-hand and wrestles him down. All that practice dog-piling Grievous at every chance, Rex assumes, and struggles valiantly even as he’s hauled into a headlock.

“What was that, vod?” Cody asks mercilessly, and tugs at the short hairs of Rex's buzzcut, making him hiss in offense. “I don’t want to hear that from someone who got dunked in bleach on their way out of the cloning vat.”

Rex elbows at him, misses, and instead jabs him in the ribs with his knuckles, right where he knows Cody is most ticklish. “Get the hell off me, you bantha-brained dwarfnut!”

“You kiss your general with that mouth?” Cody asks, and stops Rex from tickling him with the expedient method of just karking _collapsing_ on him, pinning him to the floor. Rex squawks in offense, and Cody snickers, as unmoving as a great armored _lump_.

“I don’t kiss my general, I kiss yours,” Rex retorts, kind of wheezing as Cody compresses him into the tile. It’s blatantly a lie, but it makes Cody snort, and he gives Rex's hair one more tug and then lets him up, point proved.

“How’s that crush on General Fisto coming, anyway?” Cody asks, because he’s a _bastard_.

Rex rolls his eyes, thumping him in the shoulder as he sits up. Cody takes it with a smirk, because of course he does. “That doesn’t count,” he protests. “Everyone has a crush on General Fisto.”

“Yeah, but most of them don’t trip over their own feet in front of him, fall into a system of underwater caves, and almost get eaten by a sea monster before he can rescue them,” Cody says mildly, and this time when Rex goes to thump him he catches Rex's fist, turns it around, and makes Rex punch himself. Because he’s a _child_.

(Rex ignores the fact that he, too, would have done the same, given the opportunity.)

“That is _not_ what happened,” Rex says stubbornly, even though it technically is, and before Cody can make him punch himself again, he shoves him hard with a shoulder. “I assume you’ve got a plan for the greys Fox is currently wearing?”

“Of course I do,” Cody says, unbothered, and lets go of Rex. Reaches for his kit, and pulls out—

“A bucket trap?” Rex asks, grinning. The galaxy is a beautiful place right now.

“Your favorite,” Cody says with amusement, and tosses the small pail and tangle of string to him. “Now you can't say I never do nice things for you.”

Rex snorts, already eying the door to figure out where best to assemble it. “Make yourself useful and go get me some water.”

Cody uses his head as a prop to push himself to his feet, but Rex shoulder-checks him and nearly makes him trip into the wall, so they're probably about even.

There's a nice vantage point from the roof of the building across from the Guard barracks, and Cody and Rex meander their way there when everything’s been scrubbed down and squared away. Rex even called in a favor and got Lieutenant Inc, waiting on cruiser repairs nearby with the rest of the 327th, to slice the security feeds and erase the evidence of their presence. It feels a little like completing a successful campaign, just without the inevitable losses, and Rex is more than happy to settle down on the duracrete and take one of the cups of caf Cody secured from a nearby vendor.

They get comfortable just as a speeder arrives, letting off a familiar figure. Fox nods curtly to the guards as he passes, moving at a fast clip, and Rex checks the time. He’s got less than half an hour before Obi-Wan shows up, which is perfect and eminently satisfying.

Just to really put the cherry on top of this sundae, Rex pulls out the pilfered bag of chocolates and offers Cody one with a smirk.

“Guess Fox’s sweet-tooth won't have an outlet for a few days,” he says, and Cody laughs and takes it, unwrapping it without hesitation.

“Maybe next time he’ll remember to be nicer to his vode,” he agrees, and offers up his cup. Snorting, Rex taps his own against it, then settles back in the sunlight, tilting his face up to the sky as he lets Cody keep a lookout. It’s definitely not a fancy Coruscanti meal, but—

Somehow, caf and stolen chocolates on a rooftop manage to feel even better.

He’s not sure how much later it is, but Cody suddenly makes a choked, desperate sound and jabs Rex in the side. “ _Vod_ ,” he says, strangled, and Rex jolts upright and looks at the entrance to the barracks. Freezes, stunned, for one glorious second, and—

“He’s _wearing_ it,” he says, disbelieving, _gleeful_. “Slag, he’s _actually wearing it_.”

Cody is wheezing, one hand clapped over his mouth to keep from drawing attention to them. Rex can't even manage that much; his gaze is fixed on Fox, standing there on the steps with his tattered dignity wrapped around him, lacey, see-through shirt billowing in the evening breeze. Between that, the tight leggings, and the tall boots, he looks like a pirate from the cover of a terrible novel, and Rex wants all the footage from this _forever_. He’s going to get a poster made and put it on his _wall_.

Cody buries his face in Rex's shoulder, shaking with laughter, and Rex pats him on the head, still unable to tear his eyes away.

And, to make things _better_ , a speeder with the Jedi Order’s insignia approaches right then, and Obi-Wan brings it to a stop in front of the barracks. Slides out, then pauses, and Rex can _see_ his brows go up as he takes in Fox waiting for him.

“Commander,” he says after a moment. “That’s quite the look.”

Fox flushes a dull red, and he looks ready and willing to commit murder on the first available target. “A practical joke, apparently,” he grits out. “Sorry, sir.”

“I think you look quite dashing,” Obi-Wan says easily, “if a little cold. Would you care for a cover?”

“Yes please,” Fox says, desperately grateful, and Obi-Wan smiles at him. Pulls off his own robe, slinging it around Fox’s shoulders, and lets Fox wrap himself up.

Cody makes a mournful sound, and Rex sighs heavily in agreement.

“I’m afraid I didn’t plan anything fancy,” Obi-Wan says, and climbs back into the speeder, offering Fox a hand up. “There’s a nice diner I frequent when I'm on Coruscant. It’s quite relaxing, if you don’t mind a few questionable menu items.”

Some modicum of tension slides out of Fox’s posture. “A diner sounds perfectly fine, sir,” he says. “Thank you.”

“It’s Obi-Wan, please.” Obi-Wan flashes him a smile, quick and charming enough to make Rex roll his eyes. “Commander, if I may ask, who exactly is playing pranks on you?”

Fox turns his head, looking _directly_ at them, and Rex and Cody both freeze.

“No idea,” Fox says, very obviously lying through his teeth. “But whoever it is, I'm going to _ruin_ them.”

Oops, Rex thinks, and sinks down a little further on the rooftop.

Cody, the unrepentant asshole, lifts his caf to Fox in a kark-you salute and downs the whole thing. “Bring it on,” he says.


End file.
